


oral fixation

by taffeta



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: #blacklovewins, M/M, domestic type shit, established relationship type shit, fluff and a bit of sex, hop being disgusted by their PDA, i mean really just a couple of guys being dudes, im giving leon short king rights that man tops even though he's five foot four, leon and raihan are both black men do not @ me, liberal use of coconut oil (not for sex), two goofs being goofs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:55:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24369217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taffeta/pseuds/taffeta
Summary: Leon has a thing for Raihan's teeth, and Rai has a thing for Leon's hands.
Relationships: Dande | Leon/Kibana | Raihan
Comments: 1
Kudos: 109





	oral fixation

**Author's Note:**

> this has been sitting in my notes for like three** months idk what to do with it so hopefully some a yall hoes will enjoy it here 
> 
> **since NOVEMBER

_Mouth //_

Raihan’s going on and on about his battle against Johto’s dragon gym leader and, in the spirit of total honesty, Leon’s really only half paying attention, and that fifty percent is still awful generous. 

It’s the end of a long day for the both of them; Leon’s itching to get out of his signature coat and basketball shorts over leggings getup, a fit that’s dope for a battle but uncomfortable as hell after a fifteen-hour circuit of basically nonstop battling. They’re taking the quiet way back home—back to Raihan’s place, at least—through a nearby park, desolate and slumbering as one AM comes and goes.

“—Oh man, and that battle with the Unova gym, right?” Leon only catches the ass-end of whatever Raihan’s talking about, but he nods anyway so as not to be rude. It’s basically a one-man conversation at this point, and Leon looks over with tired, sunken eyes to at least lip-read, best not to be too rude, and in the piercing light of the moon, Leon can see them; Raihan’s teeth. 

Raihan takes phenomenal care of his teeth, always has; a secret pride and joy of his, next to the wonderful handling of his social media. He has the lingering memories of his many sleepovers with Raihan as kids, when he’d run to the bathroom before going to bed and after waking up, his near neurotic fixation on brushing. 

And, when Raihan landed the spot as a dragon gym leader, Leon went with him to the orthodontist appointment under the pretense of a “regular checkup, no, don’t ask why I want you to come with me bro, just come on”, and hadn’t managed to talk Raihan out of it when he found out it was actually to get the points of his canines sharpened. Eventually, they grew on him, but it took Raihan a couple of close calls with nearly biting his tongue clean off, and more than a lot of blood to get used to life with his new teeth. 

Now, in contrast with his dark skin, and the pale moon behind them providing the mood lighting, they look good. Awful good. Perhaps it’s more so the sleep deprivation taking over, but suddenly Leon wants to run his fingers over those sharp teeth. Maybe he wouldn’t mind Raihan biting into the soft, giving flesh of his neck, and the thought makes the tip of his ears go hot. 

Leon’s thing about Raihan’s mouth has always been strange, bordering on the line of fascination and infatuation, but it’s been only semi-recently, with their budding relationship that it’s now a fantasy he can act on. 

Raihan’s still talking, and talking intensely; the frantic up and down of his miming hands gives it away, probably something about Lance, it’s always something about goddamn Lance, when they cross the cobblestone bridge, Leon’s close-to-home marker, and he stops in his tracks. Leon rubs at his eyes and uses both hands to hoist himself up on the side of the bridge, the brick cool and wet under his champion outfit. Raihan’s still walking. 

It takes Raihan a second to look behind him; more than a second, in fact, as Leon has to call his name to refocus his attention, “beloved, Rai, hold up a second", and by that time he’s more than a couple feet away, Raihan pauses, backtracking on their path. He doesn’t say anything; just looks at Leon up at down, and Leon extends his sore arm to bring him closer. Leon sitting on the bridge finally gives him a bit of a height advantage over his behemoth of a boyfriend; finally, Rai has to look up at him to make eye contact. 

“Did you get up there to be tall?” Raihan, asks, laying his chin on Leon’s chest to look up at him, for once; for all his blind optimism and seemingly-unwarranted assuredness, he is a bright man, and Leon laughs. 

“If this is what it’s like all the time, I could probably get used to it.” 

“Did you hear what I said before?” When he speaks, sometimes, the corners of his lips raise, and expose his white teeth; Leon urges him a bit closer, running his fingers over the dark skin of Rai’s cheeks. There are dark circles hovering below his eyes; he looks as tired as Leon feels. 

“…Yeah.”

Rai snorts softly, “No you didn’t.” At this, he smiles, and Leon, cannot fight the strange urge to push the pads of his thumbs into Raihan’s canines. Rai pushes him, playfully, away.

“You look right knackered, mate,” _kiss me, shut the hell up and kiss me you fool_ thinks Leon; he’s still trying to press his lips against Rai’s warm skin, but, not one to be deterred, Raihan keeps talking, turning his head away completely from Leon.

“We’ve got to get up early tomorrow, Lance invited us out to breakfast—”

Still pressed into Raihan’s neck, Leon didn’t fight the scoff that bubbled up from his throat; Rai didn’t see the eye roll, but he damn sure heard that. 

“What’s wrong with Lance?” Rai stepped back, squeezing Leon by his forearms, still grinning. 

“I’m trying to be romantic, Rai,” and finally, finally, he presses himself to Raihan’s soft lips, closing the mile-long gap between them, feeling his way along Raihan’s mouth, the backs of his teeth, rolling his tongue across Raihan’s, the kiss devolving into nothing more than spit and teeth; Leon runs his hands across Rai’s back, one hand situated comfortably around his skinny waist, and the other nestled in his dreads. A long, soft groan arises from Raihan’s throat; for leverage, Rai rests both his hands on the upper part of Leon’s heavy thighs.

“And you keep talking about Lance. Can Lance make you feel like this?” Rai makes a sound like a half-strangled moan and a chuckle, that chokes off into light laughter. 

“You just tried to put your dirty fingers in my mouth.” 

Leon is physically unable to stop his response of: “That’s not the only thing I’m gonna put in your—” 

Rai holds an open palm up, his lips pursed together to stop himself from laughing, “Shut up, shut the hell up right _now_ you bastard—” 

It’s an unusually warm summer for Galar, and the lingering heat and humidity in the air makes the tips of Leon’s hair curl. Raihan wastes no time burying his hands in it, both of them still giggling, loopy with exhaustion, and Leon pulls him closer by hooking a bulky leg around his waist. 

Raihan is the first to break away, tight, controlled breaths blowing from his nose and the ever so slight gap in his lips, and when Leon leans over to kiss him again, Raihan runs his sharp canines over the smooth flesh of Leon’s neck, and sinks his teeth into him, between his shoulder and collarbone. 

Leon doesn’t hold back a strangled gasp from his throat proceeded by a brisk, surprised ‘oh’ at the force of the bite. Raihan hasn’t broken skin this time, hasn’t even left any marks, knows where to break-off the pressure to give Leon a near-perfect mix of hurt and ecstasy, and it lands this time. 

Raihan’s biting up his neck, and between them he peppers in a kiss or two, trailing upwards until his dry lips are ghosting Leon’s outer jawbone, whisper-close to his earlobe. Leon can feel the corner’s of Raihan’s mouth lifting into a devious little grin, and then this time, he bites. Hard.

“Oh shit, Rai—”

Arms resting comfortably over Leon’s midsection, Raihan sinks his teeth in, this time nipping at him with enough force to break the skin, and to jerk him upright. The electricity, the shock, goes straight to Leon’s dick. 

Without thinking, he’s sidling up closer to Raihan, hips jerking up, trying to relieve some of the pressure building up in his abdomen. Raihan nips at his earlobe, pulling it in his teeth, and before Leon could get in a word, his hand settles firmly on the crotch of Leon’s shorts.

“Oh, wait wait, wait,” Leon forces it out of himself, moaning and breathless, and has to push Raihan away when he starts to lick at his collarbone, “Rai, I…oh my god, do not bite me again cause I absolutely will ruin my good shorts.” 

“Fuck those shorts,” says Raihan, curt and sidling back in for another round of heavy petting, when this time Leon really does stop him with a raised hand.

“What else am I gonna wear for our brunch with Lance tomorrow?”

“Wh—you are not wearing those damn shorts!” 

“I am, in fact, wearing the shorts tomorrow morning.” Leon hops down from his perch, still mildly hard, fumbling for Raihan’s fingers as he starts dragging the both of them back to his place. 

_Hands //_

“That was a stupid movie,” Leon whispers, and Raihan nods quietly in agreement. At the sound of his older brother Hop stirs, but does not awaken. Leon has a hand slung haphazardly around Raihan’s shoulders, pulling them closer underneath their shared blanket. It’s a thing of the past, from Leon’s childhood, dotted with the faded, peeling bodies of blue and green Bulbasaur. 

“You could see that twist with the Snivy coming from a thousand miles.” Raihan responds, not quite listening; instead, he’s playing with the tips of Leon’s fingers. Holding them in his own. 

Leon’s got nice looking hands, Raihan thinks, something that he’s told Leon a thousand times in quiet, reserved moments like these where the roar of the crowd, the insufferably hot stadium lights, have faded and they’re left with nothing and no one but themselves. Well, not entirely by themselves, not tonight; Hop is relaxing on Leon’s left, his ungainly, long limbs looking far too big for his torso, spread out on the couch. 

In front of them, the credits of “Between a Roggenrola and a Hard Place 2: The Wrath of Hitmonlee” scroll endlessly, but Raihan can only focus on the fact that Leon’s other hand is planted securely on his hip, caressing his skin there, running his thumb in circles in a pattern against his flesh. They’re careful not to get too deep into it, especially since Hop is sitting literally right there. 

But they’re laying close, Raihan’s nose pressed up against Leon’s cheek and breathing in the familiar scent of his best friend. Always like cinnamon, coconut oil, and the faint smell of sweat. Beside them, Hop grunts, folding his arms across his chest even though he’s swaddled in a bulky down comforter, shifting in his uncomfortable position on the couch. 

Chuckling, Leon runs his fingers through Hop’s hair, a look of fondness so intense settling on his face that even Raihan feels a pang of something, of nostalgia, for the simple days of family, uncomplicated. 

“I’m gonna put Hop to bed.” He whispers against Raihan’s cheek; under his breath Raihan can smell the aging, buttery notes of the popcorn from earlier. 

“Do you want to stay over?” Leon asks. His mouth is so close that when he speaks, his teeth scrape against Raihan’s lips. 

“Sure. We can have our own marathon.” Raihan whispers back, pressing a chaste kiss against Leon’s lips. Leon chuckles, low and soft, and on his left Raihan sees the comforter shift. 

“Ugh, I can hear you.” Hop grunts from under the blankets, and Raihan can’t hold back his surprised bark of laughter, and Leon pulls away from him like he’s on fire, an abashed little grin marking his pretty face, “movies over? Who won?”

“The Snivy,” Raihan says.

Leon stands, sliding up and away from Raihan, and when he arches his back to stretch, his bones crack; the back of Leon’s shirt rides up as he lifts his arms, and Raihan has to fight the urge to press his thumbs into the dimples that mark Leon’s back. 

“Busted.” He smiles at Raihan, “Movies been over, little man.”

“Damn,” Hop states it so innocently that Raihan can’t believe his ears for a second; there’s a beat of silence between all three of them, before Hop lets out a soft, sharp inhale, and Leon blurts out: 

“Ah! What did mom tell you about cursing?”

“Until I’m at least twenty-five and I have a job,” Hop stretches, same as his brother, trailing the thick comforter behind him as he starts the long, sleepy trudge back to his room.

Hop stops in the doorway, turning back to his brother, “Don’t tell mom I said that and I won’t tell her about Raihan sleeping over.” 

“Done,” he pats Hop on the back, pushing him up the stairs softly against the weight of the blanket and gravity, “night, bro!” 

He’s well out of sight and Leon’s re-settled himself back on the sofa when Raihan hears a soft “night Lee, night Rai,” thick with exhaustion and the coming promise of sleep. Shortly after, a door closes upstairs.

There’s a beat of silence between them, both Raihan and Leon inadvertently listening for any more signs of movement from Hop’s room; they are, thankfully, met by the thick quiet of the house. 

“So,” says Leon, clapping his heavy hands on his equally heavy thighs; across from them, whatever network the television is set to has started a replay of some horror film. 

“So,” Raihan says back, slightly bemused, and leans in to kiss him. For his little brother’s sake, Leon reaches for the remote behind him and turns up the volume a tad; no need for Hop to hear what’s about to go down in their living room. 

“I’ve told you how much I love your hands, yeah?” Rai says softly, after they’ve broken apart; he turns them over in his own. The lower parts of Leon’s fingers are covered in fine, dark hairs, and he leaves slight kisses, starting on the tips of his fingers gently, and going down to the knuckle.

“A couple of times, if I’m not mistaken,” he runs his right hand down Raihan’s toned body, settling himself around Raihan’s pelvis, squeezing the sharp bone of his hip. 

“Hmm. Then let me tell you again,” and Raihan opens his lips and leads Leon’s fingers to his mouth, running his tongue through the grooves and lines of his digits. 

Leon’s got this look on his face like he can’t believe what’s happening right in front of him; his pretty brown eyes are wide in what Rai can’t decide is shock or bewilderment, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he starts pressing his own fingers into Raihan’s mouth, starting off slowly, pulling them back out at the knuckle. 

Leon pulls himself out and leaves a line of drool at the corner of Raihan’s mouth, and they’re back at it once more; Rai’s arms wrapped around Leon’s neck and Leon wrapped around Rai’s waist, fitting so perfectly as if they’ve always belonged there, rolling and sliding his tongue against Leon’s. Lee pushes him down on the couch with a bulky hand, his dreads against the armrest. 

“If you like my fingers,” Leon whispers, and Rai can feel the smile behind his itchy beard stubble, “you’ll love my—“

“One more word,” laughing breathlessly himself, he’s wrapping his long legs against Leon’s midsection, pulling him down on the sofa as well, “one more, and I will leave this room.” 

Leon manages to barely get the buttons of Raihan’s night flannel undone, and Raihan does the same for him; helping Leon lift his shirt over his shoulders, Rai runs his long fingers over the smooth brown flesh of Leon’s midsection.

“Titties so fat, king,” Raihan says, snorting at his own joke, reaching up to twist one of Leon’s nipples between two lithe fingers, feeling up the break between his pecs. He puts his mouth to Leon’s skin, sucking bare skin hard, hoping to leave a mark, as Leon groans, sliding a hand in Rai’s dreads and pulling hard. Again, they’re pressed together, Leon hot on his mouth and running his fingers against Raihan’s toned sides. 

Leon’s hands are pressed firmly into his hips, and the right-hand trails along into the small of his back. And all it takes is Leon’s hand down the front of his loose night pants, and three languishingly slow pulls—and with each slow of Leon’s fingers firmly wrapped around his cock, he’s arching into the sheets and gripping Leon’s ponytail, gasping, out of breath and devoid of any words. A sharp hiss escapes Rai’s mouth and he arches his hips up, arches himself harder into Leon’s hand. 

“Oh, hell.” Is all Raihan can say for a while; he listens to Leon bring himself to climax, with a few more strokes followed by a soft groan. And, like that, they’re both settled back onto the sofa.

Raihan’s head is settled on Leon’s thigh, which serves as an uncomfortable, muscular feeling pillow; but Leon’s playing in his hair, running his fingers through his dreads and rubbing Raihan’s scalp. 

“…So, like,” Leon says, after a prolonged, comfortable post-sex silence between them, “are you beat for watching the third movie, or?”

Typical. A slight grin on his face, Raihan presses his face in closer to Leon’s midsection.

“Sure. You beat for giving me a massage during?”

“Always,” he says, leaning back and taking Rai with him, Literally, I’m always up for that.”

**Author's Note:**

> forgot i wrote tiddies so fat in this and i literally LOST it when i saw that


End file.
